


Amor Vincit Omnia

by wintergrey



Series: Vade Mecum [11]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Friendship, Guilt, Homelessness, Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Past Brainwashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1981638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintergrey/pseuds/wintergrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Love conquers all.</i>
</p><blockquote>
  <p>“I would have said no. If I could.” Bucky runs his palms over his thighs now, Sam can see he’s still fighting the need to get up and leave. Sometimes you need to stay, sometimes you need to go—what matters most for Bucky is the choosing.</p>
  <p>“And that makes it worse, I know.” This time, Sam doesn’t interfere when Bucky gets up. That’s enough for now. He just raises his voice a little so it carries. “But if you’re staying away because you think you don’t deserve to be Steve’s friend, you couldn’t be more wrong.”</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	Amor Vincit Omnia

Dawn creeps up, turning the world from grey to silver. The birds, tentative at first, gradually become more enthusiastic until their voices bounce off the trees and rise toward the hazy sky. An irritable squirrel lectures Sam and Bucky from a branch overhead. The paw prints of a fox mark a crossing on the soft, damp dirt path they’re taking. It’s all signs that the world is still turning and life is being lived, no matter how much either of them is hurting.

They keep a steady pace in silence a long time and the tension leaches out of Bucky as they move. That's good. They share an energy bar and Sam’s water. That, also, is good. All parts are in working order, at least. At the edge of the forest, they emerge into the real world together, both mostly in themselves and knowing themselves.

“What keeps you out here if you know where we are?” Sam asks. They slow to a walk in the real world, no one in this place runs unless they have to. There’s a playground here, a baseball diamond, pieces of childhood waiting for children to come.

“How do I go back?” Bucky shakes his head angrily. “Can hardly stand to be who I am. Sometimes I have to be two people because who I was before is so disgusted with they made me into.”

“Bucky—” Sam starts to say, but Bucky cuts him off.

“If I were someone else, I’d kill this thing they made me be,” Bucky spits out. “But that’s not fair to me—to who I was. He, me, whoever he is… whoever we are… deserves better than dying. I’m not letting HYDRA win. They don’t get to win.” He gestures wildly as he speaks, silver hand and flesh hand mirroring each other as they cut the morning air apart.

“Do you want to come back?” That’s important to know. And it’s a relief to hear anger instead of despair, a relief to hear that Bucky thinks he deserves to live. Sam couldn’t agree more. “You don’t have to, we can work something out.” Sam knows Steve will do anything—hell, Sam will do anything—to make this work.

“I want to. It’s been so long. But, everything I’ve done…” Bucky sits down on a park bench near the misty ballfield, as though his legs won’t hold him up anymore. Like this, in the morning light, he looks small, hollowed out, hurting. “I need to make up for it somehow. How do I make up for all that? For killing people. There’s… it’s just so many.”

“The things you did,” Sam says carefully. He comes to sit beside Bucky, elbows on knees, hands clasped between them. He doesn’t look at Bucky, he knows that doesn’t always help. “The things you did are injuries, Bucky. Not crimes.”

“I did them, though,” Bucky’s voice is thin, almost lost under the distant sound of passing cars. The world is awake around them now. “To other people.”

“And they were done to you, man.” Sam leans in a little and Bucky doesn’t pull away. “That’s part of being human. You can’t touch other people without being touched back. It’s physically impossible. Humanly impossible. What you do to other people happens to you, too.”

“I can’t…” Bucky starts to get up so Sam risks putting a hand on his arm. It would stop Steve—it works on Bucky, too. Not hanging on. Just a touch that touches back. Bucky yields to him easily, no resistance.

“You can do this,” Sam says. He knows how hard it is for him, he knows he’s asking almost too much. But he’s not asking Bucky to do it alone. “Just hang out with me a minute and get through. You’re safe. I’m here.” Bucky looks around, wild-eyed, but then he exhales and holds his ground. “It’s easier when you think you’re the bad guy, I know.”

“I was. I am.” Bucky rubs his good hand over his face.

“No, you were a soldier.” Sam’s sees Steve’s friend under the surface for the first time, sees him in the boy’s expression on the man’s features. “You did what they said you needed to do. It’s what soldiers do, on both sides. Whether they tell you you’re a hero or a villain, the rest doesn’t change.”

“I would have said no. If I could.” Bucky runs his palms over his thighs now, Sam can see he’s still fighting the need to get up and leave. Sometimes you need to stay, sometimes you need to go—what matters most for Bucky is the choosing.

“And that makes it worse, I know.” This time, Sam doesn’t interfere when Bucky gets up. That’s enough for now. He just raises his voice a little so it carries. “But if you’re staying away because you think you don’t deserve to be Steve’s friend, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

Bucky stops after a few steps. “I don’t.” He doesn’t look back.

“Steve disagrees. As far as he’s concerned, you’re still his best friend.” Sam leans back on the bench, forces himself to relax. “You saw what he did for you yesterday. You were there, I know you were.”

“I’m not good for him. I can’t be.”

“How do you know? How do you know you’re not good for him?”

“Well, to start, I tried to kill him. And then yesterday I nearly got him killed. You live with him.” Bucky rounds on Sam, eyes bright with frustration. “He left you behind to come after me. How can you say I’m anything good in his life?”

“Because last night, you looked after me when I needed it.” Sam gets up slowly, no sudden movements. “Because I see Steve’s face every time he thinks we might find you. Because I know he doesn’t expect you to be the same, but he wants you to come home anyway. Any way you are. He needs a chance to catch you. You’re still falling off that train, man. You saw that yesterday.”

Bucky won’t look at Sam, his gaze is fixed on a point high in the pale arc of the sky. He doesn’t back away when Sam approaches him, though, one slow step at a time. As Sam gets close enough, he can see that Bucky’s lashes are wet with unshed tears.

“He’s still trying to catch you,” Sam says gently. “Trust me when I say I know this. It doesn’t go away. He’s going to be reaching out for you forever. I won’t let you drag him down, I promise. You don’t have to worry about that. Just let him catch you and bring you home.”

“Where’s that?” Bucky blinks, shakes his head angrily as the tears slip free. “I don’t know what that means anymore.”

This might be the stupidest thing Sam’s ever done in his life, or maybe it’s the smartest. He pulls out his keys, frees the housekey from the jumble but leaves it on its own ring, then shoves the remaining mess back in his pocket.

“I know you know where I live.” Sam holds the key out.

“What?” Bucky’s pain fades briefly in the face of his confusion.  
  
“You asked me where home is.” Sam risks taking one of Bucky’s hands in his, turns out it’s the metal one, and he lays the key on Bucky’s upturned palm. “You know the address. There’s your key. You use that when you’re ready. You don’t have to stay. Just eat, shower, grab a change of clothes. Whether we’re home or not. It’s your home, too.”

“I tried to kill you guys. I’m wanted by damn near everybody—are you crazy?” Bucky sounds refreshingly normal just then. Sam can’t help grinning as he sees that spark surface again. “You can’t have me under your roof.”

“You’ve been there since the start, man, just not in person.” Sam holds his hands up helplessly. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up and make it official. Like I said. On your own time, okay?” He starts walking away, backward, keeping an eye on Bucky for the moment. “They want to come for you, let ‘em come. At least you’ll be where you belong when they do.”

“I just—” Bucky doesn’t finish. He stares down at the key, uncomprehending, but then he puts it away in his pocket. “You’re actually crazy,” he finally says. “You might be crazier than Steve, and I wasn’t sure that could happen.”

“Not gonna argue with you.” Sam laughs, and it’s mostly relief. There’s a lot more hope for both of them than he’d have guessed going in. He decides to try one more thing before he calls it a day. “Hey, Steve says you really like those cookies, in the blue wrapper.”

“Salerno,” Bucky says without thinking, just like that. Steve loves them because they remind him of being a kid. Because, like him, they’re still around.

“Yeah, those. I keep ‘em in the cupboard over the fridge. You know. If you get hungry. Help yourself.” Sam turns away then, keeps walking. When he checks over his shoulder after a few paces Bucky’s just standing there, watching him go. Something’s shifted in Bucky’s posture, though: he looks less lost, more whole. “We’ll see you when you get there.”

It takes Sam the rest of the day to get up the nerve but he shows up to the VA on time—not for his own meeting, someone else is covering that. He slides into an open meeting run by one of the other counsellors, an older guy named Bernie who helped train him.

Sam gets a few surprised looks on the way to his seat. He looks terrible, he knows that. While they’re waiting for everyone to settle, he texts Steve.

 _At the VA for a meeting. Done at 5 if you want to pick me up._ Then he turns off the phone and puts it away.

“You feel like talking today, Sam?” Bernie crosses his arms on top of his Santa-belly and looks at Sam over the frame of his reading glasses.

“Probably.” Sam runs a hand over his hair, then sighs heavily. “Been really happy lately and I’m not taking it well. Walked out on my boyfriend after a meltdown last night and slept outside. Feel a little better after talking to friends but… I gotta go home now and that’s rough.” He can only imagine how hard it is for Bucky.

“Big change for you,” Bernie says nonjudgmentally. Sam’s never come out to anyone here before. “All of it.”

“Yeah.” Sam stares down at his hands, at the dirt under his nails. “I was holding on to the whole image of being okay pretty hard and then I blew it right the hell up. I don’t know how to go back now. I need some help with it.”

“Anyone want to share about that?” Bernie looks around. A lean woman with copper skin and cropped hair and gold hoop earrings raises her hand. “Chelle. Why don’t you talk about what that’s like for you?”

There’s a lot of different places that a person can call home. Sam sits back in his chair, breathes, listens, and learns. The faces may change, but this place is also home.

Pride is a hell of a thing. By the time Sam walks out of the meeting, he’s put some of his down in favour of some healing, feels a little redeemed. He wants to go home to Steve like his heart is already there and pulling the rest of him along behind it.

He steps out into a balmy, golden evening, follows the familiar path around to the parking lot without thinking about it. He turns the phone back on as he goes and there’s a message. _I’m here_ , he reads, even as he looks up to see Steve standing by his car parked in Sam’s usual spot.

Sam tries to hold on to some dignity, Steve doesn’t bother. That’s one of the million things Sam loves so much about him. Some moments he won’t ever forget, like Steve sprinting across the lush green lawn in the honey-coloured light because they were apart not even a day. Sam reaches out, pulls Steve in as the gap between them narrows to inches, and kisses him on the mouth.

“I love you,” Steve says, at the same time as Sam says, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” “I love you, too.” “Come home.” “Yes.” They hold on to each other for a long time before Sam makes himself let go.

“Let’s get in the car, baby.” Sam kisses Steve on the mouth one more time. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

 

 


End file.
